Mornings Are For Villains
by Author ReWritten
Summary: All Canada wanted was a nice breakfast and maybe his brother to not leave his action figures everywhere. But a pesky bear has decided to wake him up at six-thirty in the morning and things get worst from there. But maybe Kuma will make it up to his master. Random oneshot drabble that was originally supposed to be the first chapter of a story!


Canada wasn't sure what woke him first; the bear's snoring or his brother's. He rolled over to blearily look at what passed for a clock, barely more than wires and a screen. The green symbols indicated that it was only about six-thirty in the morning. The straw-haired nation sighed. For once, it would be nice to sleep until eight. He pushed the bear-what was its name again? Kiki?- off of him before falling out of bed and onto the floor. "Ow."

After performing the daily routine of his morning, he stumbled into the kitchen and searched for a suitable pan to make pancakes. The bear waddled in holding his glasses in its mouth. "Thank you, Karrot." Was that its name?

Apparently not, for the bear just grunted and exited the kitchen, leaving his glasses on the floor. He heard the tell-tale sound of it trotting up the stairs and smiled to himself. The polar bear was going to do something that Canada thought exceedingly funny. There came the sound of-Klemintine?- jumping onto America's bed and then- "YAAARRGH!"

America came tripping down the stairs, looking panicked. "Call off your killer bear!" he howled at Canada as the afore-mentioned creature came snuffling down the stairs. Canada laughed quietly, knowing that the mornings were the only time America really noticed his brother.

"He doesn't do all that much to you." The northern brother pointed out. Alfred though was in too much of a tizzy to hear.

"He stuck his cold, wet nose in my ear! Then he pushed me off the bed! That's a lot to me! Heroes need their sleep! We need lots of sleep cause mornings are for villains!" Canada rolled his eyes, but said nothing. America threw himself into a chair, looking sullen. The northern brother flipped his pancakes silently until America asked "What's for breakfast around here?"

"You don't like my maple syrup so you can go get something from that stupid fast-food place you like," replied Matthew, calmly dousing his pancakes in all-natural maple syrup and searching the silverware drawer for a fork. What he found instead of eating utensils? "Alfred, why are your action figures in the silverware drawer?" He held up one of the figures and shook it at Alfred.

"..." The personification of America stomped over and snatched the figure out of his brother's hand and then rifled through the drawer until he pulled out all of them. Matthew took out a fork, wiped it off with a napkin and sat down to eat his pancakes.

America was making one of the action figures fly all around the table, probably in utter boredom. Canada sighed, put down the bite of food he had been about to eat, reached over and took the action figure away. While he was distracted, the bear leaned up and took the top pancake off the stack, slinking away triumphantly with its prize.

Finally, the American nation stormed up the stairs, clutching his precious action figures to his chest. Canada was finally able to sit down again, only to find that the bear had taken the time to eat all of his pancakes. He groaned and slid a hand down his face, before pushing the plate away and banging his head repeatedly on the table.

America, now wearing his bomber jacket, came back down the stairs, saluted his brother, then ran out to start the car so he could stop at his fast-food joint on the way to work. Canada got up and took his syrupy plate to the sink. Crunch! He gingerly lifted a slippered foot to gaze in dismay at the shards and twisted frame of what had been his glasses. The small polar bear sat down a few inches from the chair, surveyed the damage, and sighed. Canada copied his pet's action and dug around in the cupboard under the sink to find the dustpan and brush.

* * *

Finally, having found a new pair of glasses and then hunted around until he found his shoes, Canada was finally on his way to work. The polar bear was strapped into the passenger seat, chuffing softly and looking out the window at the maple trees. Canada sometimes wondered if there was more to the animal than met the eye, for sometimes it talked to him. Mostly, when he called it by the wrong name, it would sit down, look him squarely in the eye and ask "Who are you?"

To which he would reply, often angrily, "I'm Canada! I'm Matthew!" It would stare at him a bit then sniff and ask, mockingly "Who?"

Just thinking about it drove the nation crazy. His hands clenched on the wheel, knuckles turning white. The bear poked its nose at the window and said "Huh."

"What?" Matthew looked over to where the bear was pointing and his heart sank. Traffic. A seven letter word that would drive even the sanest man mad. He sighed and banged his head on the wheel, making the horn of his car blare. "Klinton, we're going to have some problems getting to work today."

"Who is?" queried the bear, still looking out the window. Then it stepped on the thingy that rolled down the window, unbuckled its seat-belt and hopped out of the car.

"Kumajiro!" cried Canada, remembering the thing's name, and hauled on the wheel to follow the bear. It raced down a side road at a pace not normal for the slow-moving bear. His car bumped along the road until the nation came to a roadblock. He groaned, unbuckled his seat-belt and pelted after his bear. He wound up lost in the woods. "Kumajiro?"

"Who?" echoed back at him from all sides.

"Canada!" he yelled back.

The bear appeared and beckoned him on. He ran after it and it led him through the trees to a highway, where it stopped and chuffed at him laughingly. He scooped the bear up and pushed his nose into the white fur. "Don't you ever do that again, Kuma!"

"Heh," laughed the bear. Canada then noted a breakfast place across the road. Feeling his stomach growl, he tickled behind Kumajiro's ears. "Great idea, bud."

So, the Canadian nation and his bear took an hour or so to eat a second breakfast. Then they wheeled the car through the woods to the clear highway. Matthew smiled as he parked at work. _Maybe Alfred's wrong, _he thought _Maybe mornings aren't for villains after all._

**Dunno what I did here. Just some stupid drabble because I like Canada and Kumajiro. **_  
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End file.
